Leon’s never held anything personal against any of the rookies at the DSO. He knows how tough the job is, how anxious they must be. They reminded him of himself 30 years ago, before everything. Before Raccoon City, Spain, China. Before life decided to fuck him in the ass a hundred times over.

He’s not one to be mean to newbies or to be rude or intimidating. He tries his best to make sure they feel comfortable; he didn’t want them to feel how he felt when he first joined. How suffocated, small, and uneasy he felt walking down these halls, knowing he’d get a bullet to the head if he tried to leave. He knows he was just a special case, and the DSO doesn’t do that anymore, but the memories still haunt him. He made himself a promise to make sure no one ever feels like that again.

But then you started last week. Fresh out of university, you still had a shine to your eyes. You were also very easy on the eyes, which he hated to admit. He didn’t like even considering his co-workers as people he could date; he keeps it a strict rule in his head. But you were absolutely gorgeous, with big pretty eyes and soft lips he would catch himself staring at.

But one thing kept him from actively flirting with you. There's nothing wrong with a little flirting, right? And he knows how to take no as an answer, if he saw you were uncomfortable, he’d immediately stop. He’s not flat-out weird.

The problem?

You were the most annoying person he had ever met.

1 Week Ago

The new rookie started today, and he was on his way to the DSO to introduce himself. You were his rookie to train, after all. He hadn’t been assigned to someone in a while; he had requested some alone time after the whole ‘going back to Raccoon City’ thing. He needed a well-deserved vacation, so he went to the Bahamas and tanned on the beach. He also got his eyebrows done, they were starting to grow out of shape.

But now he was back, and when he saw the notification on his phone about a new trainee, he had sighed internally. He really didn’t want to, but it's not like he had a choice. So here he is, parking the Porsche and climbing out, fixing his sleeves. He had thrown on a navy blue sweatshirt that was a little too tight, because apparently all his clothes had grown a size too small in the past few months, and he was too lazy to buy new ones. At least he knew the gym had been working.

A navy blue sweatshirt paired with dark jeans, boots, his hair pushed back, and his watch (which cost more than his rent) on his wrist. Casual, but still formal enough for a good first impression.

Before entering the office, he checks if he has anything in his teeth. And then he walks in, waving to the usual receptionist and blinking awkwardly when they force him into conversation.

“Hey Leon,” The lady at the desk smiles, leaning forward with giddiness. He smiles respectfully, and decides wasting a minute or two talking with the desk lady wouldn’t hurt anyone.

“Hey Sarah. Haven’t seen you in a minute,” He hums, scanning over her appearance. “You look different. Did you dye your hair?” A toothy grin tugs at his lips. Sarah laughs loudly, shaking her head.

“Oh, you’re so funny, Leon! I haven’t touched my hair one bit! What, does it look different?”

It actually looks like a raccoon's nest, but he wasn’t going to say that.

"Just... Different. Ah, Sarah, maybe we can catch up later? I have to meet with a rookie to train. Hey, you wanna grab dinner?” He blinks. He was really hungry, and he hated going to restaurants alone. Made him look depressingly alone.

..Which he was.

Of course, Sarah quickly agrees and slips a note with her number on it, which he takes with a smile and a nod, before going along his way down the hall.

He can hear chatter in his office, and he recognizes one of the voices as Sherry. She had been his new radio operator on his mission for the past few months and has been doing an excellent job. He had missed her as well, he was glad he was back in day-to-day contact with her.

As he enters his office, his gaze immediately snaps to yours. Jesus Christ, you’re gorgeous. Breathtaking, even. Remind him to cancel his plans with Sarah ASAP.

“Sherry?” He speaks up with a soft smile, motioning towards you. Sherry straightens her posture and pats your back, making you face him more straightforwardly.

“This is your new trainee, Leon,” Sherry starts, saying your name afterward. Leon repeats your name before extending his hand.

“Im Leon, Leon Kennedy. It's great to meet you.” His eyes slowly look you over, taking in your appearance fully. You were sickeningly cute, with a bright smile and long lashes. A rookie with movie-star looks— this was going to be a problem for him.

“The Leon Kennedy.” You repeat slowly, biting your lower lip to repress the enthusiastic smile threatening to slip. He raises a single brow, adjusting his posture. He’s not shy of his reputation; he knows how his name exceeds the building. Of course you’d know who he was.

“The one.” He nods.

“I read about you! Actually, I've been meaning to ask you about Spain. Remember 2005? Well, I read that you went headfirst without much strategy. That wasn’t too smart of you, know? Almost reckless, may I say?" You chirp. He stares at you, perplexed.

He hasn’t even known you for five minutes and you’re already criticizing one of the worst weeks of his life. God damn, he never knew you could lose feelings this fast.

“Well, kid, that was.. a while ago.” He starts hesitantly, glancing at Sherry. Sherry shrugs casually and exits the office, leaving him alone with you. God damn it, Sherry.

“Yeah, well, statistically speaking—”

“You like statistics?” He cuts you off, stepping closer to loom over you. He rarely uses his size to his advantage, but tough times call for desperate measures.

“Yeah, why? I took AP Stats in high school, actually.” You blabber, subconsciously shrinking back.

“Good. Organize my files statistically.” He grabs a large pile of papers and drops them into your hands, ignoring your little ‘oof—’ of surprise. You adjust your stance, frowning down at the dozens of papers. This was going to take a long few hours.

"That's… not a thing.”

“It is now.” He exits the room quickly, leaving you alone.

Five minutes.

It took you five minutes to make one of the kindest men in this building loathe your guts.

The Present

Unfortunately, he was trapped with you.

It had been a week so far, and every day was somehow worse than the last. Several interactions that left him questioning his career choice. He even considered just handing you back over to Sherry, telling her that she would have to deal with you by herself, but of course Sherry decides to go on vacation.

Currently, he was standing beside you in a shooting range, reloading a pistol.

“Ground rules about handling fire arms. Always treat it like it's loaded and off safety, even if you know it isn’t. One mistake, someone’s dead. Got that?” He narrows his eyes at you, voice sharp. He’s usually never this harsh with rookies.. But you’re different.

You nod, and he continues.

“When you run out of ammo, you hear a click. You grab a fresh mag, line it up, push it in and—”

“Leon.”

His lips twitch in annoyance and he slowly turns to you, a blank look on his handsome face.

“Yes?” He says slowly, exasperated already.

“I know how a gun works. I went through training.”

A minute of silence passes, and Leon stares at you like he wishes he could rip your head off. He grunts and turns back to the gun, dropping it into your hands lightly.

“Okay. Right. Yeah, you’re right. Forgot about that. You, uh, give off a different impression.” He mutters lowly before motioning towards the range. “Go ahead then.”

You hum, getting in position and aligning your barrel with the target. The target all the way in the back.

Leon hesitates, stepping forward. “Hey, maybe you should wait to do that one later once you’ve got more experience. That one's a little tough.”

“Hush.”

Leon blinks slowly at you before scoffing and stepping back.

“Right, my bad. Go ahead, princess.” He whispers bitterly.

Bang. Bang. Bang. The metallic clink of shell casings hitting the floor beside your feet echoes throughout the room.

He looks up from his phone, expecting three holes in the target nowhere near the head. He can't wait to scold you and tell you you’re way over your head, to feel satisfied when you sulk and agree reluctantly. But when he looks at the target, there are three perfectly aimed holes at the head.

What the fuck.

“Where’d you learn that?”

“Your files. I read them a hundred times, actually. In your case study for Spain—”

“Stop calling them case studies.” He inhales, the scent of gunpowder filling his nose.

You frown. “But that's what they were called in my textbook.” You retort, as if you actually think your words mean more than his. The one you were literally reading about.

“People were trying to eat me.” He corrects not-so-politely.

"Yeah, it happens to everyone at one point. Get over it.” You roll your eyes, looking back up at him as you reload your pistol in your hands, fiddling with the mag. You reload it perfectly, which only pisses him off even more. You knew exactly how to handle a gun, how to shoot, and you did it perfectly.

Leon exhales, rubbing the bridge of his nose as his eyes drag over you lazily.

"Training's over,” He says suddenly, pulling back to grab his coat. His footsteps echo loudly as he exits the room, leaving you alone. He didn’t trust himself to be alone with you for any longer.

Warm breathe fanning over your sensitive skin, the comfort his body brought to yours felt like home — Two puzzle pieces made for each other, completing their counterpart. Without him, the whole world felt empty, sorrowful and grey, sad and trivial. And then, he appeared, carrying with him the colors of the rainbow, brightening the darkened skies and banishing the threatening clouds.

It was you both against the world, a hopeless cause, yet, the thought of leaving his side never crossed your mind — not once. He was everything you needed, your world, your god and your reason to live. Cursed tie keeping yourself close to him, despite the wrong choices of his, the blood he had on his hands, staining his skin and tainting his soul.

You became his sole obsession, the only thing he needed to protect at all cost, whatever the outcome of this war. His heart made of steel cracked open for you, showering with a love that felt so unfamiliar yet so warm. You were addicted to him, intoxicated by his eyes on your face, his scent filling your nose, the feeling of his lips against your skin.

Slowly, your back arches against the mattress, right hand fisting the bed sheets and knuckles turning white. Lips slightly parted, head thrown back, you carefully bury your heels into the small of his back, sweet sigh falling off your mouth. No one would understand. No one could. They didn’t see him the way you were — How loving he was, how you had him wrapped around your finger. The way he makes love to you, always so slow and deep, jade eyes boring into your soul. No, they wouldn’t understand. You earned it, you fought for it : And no one could take that back from you.

Eren leans forward, butterfly kisses ghosting over the skin of your exposed neck, lips making their way down to your collarbone. His grip around your waist tightens, arm placed under you, keeping your back arched, free hand beside your head to prevent him from crushing you. Despite the sound of his hips meeting yours with the same intensity, despite the moans you’d let out at each of his thrust, you could hear whisper those blessed three words, over, and over again.

The words that belonged to you, the words no one else was worthy enough to receive. More than pride, it felt like a crown sitting on your head, tears pricking the corner of your half lided eyes at his endless confessions. Tears of love, emotion and sadness — The sadness of being the only soul able to see through him, to understand who he was.

‘I love you,’ he breathes, lips meeting yours in a passionate kiss. Trembling fingers caress his jaw and cheeks, carefully grabbing a few locks of his ebony hair, face tilting to the side. It was one of those kisses that made you feel warm and safe, tongues dancing with each other, pretty sighs leaving your mouth, clashing against his.

‘I love you,’ you whisper, fingers gently pressing on the top of his head to let his cheek rest against your heaving chest. Hearing your heart beat was the only thing Eren needed to stay alive, the symphony that would escort him to sleep, opening the door of the realm of dreams.

His hips stop moving, just for a moment, and, suddenly, you could feel his body relax against yours. He needed to hear, he needed to feel. Slowly, Eren’s body gets back to his previous work, his length stretching you, leaving its mark. You were close, so close your voice wasn’t able to get out anymore, leaving you mouth slightly agape and eyes squeezed shut.

It felt like a fever dream, tip of your fingers touching the gates of dear Heaven. Stars danced across your closed eyelids, the feeling of his hot fluid painting your walls white enough to let out a strangled moan from you, a strange mixture of his name and a cry of pleasure.